


All of Me (Loves All of You)

by twinklukeskywalker



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Sons of Liberty (TV)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Adcock's getting married yo!, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smuff, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:40:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8602186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinklukeskywalker/pseuds/twinklukeskywalker
Summary: Sam Adams never thought that he'd be getting married again. And then he met one John Hancock. Also: Revere is The Best Man, Kelly and Warren are emotional fucks, and the Adamses are having fun.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadameReveuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameReveuse/gifts).



> For Kira, who is eternally thirsty for Sam Adams content. Have fun my man.
> 
> For anyone else reading, some references are a bit of an inside thing so do not be alarmed. It's a long story.
> 
> Hit me up on tumbr @slutshame-alexanderhamilton

In all his years and his attempt at foresight, Sam Adams never thought that this day would come. Never would he have thought that he would be marrying again. After Lizzie had died he had sworn off dating forever, mostly to avoid any more attachments that would lead to getting his heart broken. He had stuck to casual hookups, frequenting seedy dive bars, taking home whoever bought him drinks and kicking them out the next morning. It wasn’t a good way to live, nor was it fair to Lizzie’s memory, as was pointed out  _ multiple _ times by cousin John. And he tried, he really tried to get his life back together, but it got harder each time he woke up hung-over on John’s couch. After he ended up with two black eyes and a split lip, he had been kicked out of his main bar. It was then that he had to resort to plan B: the gay bars around town.

Sam had always had some suspicions about his sexuality, had a fling or two in college, but it had taken being drunk and being lonely to fully explore it. Fucking around Boston, fucking Boston, had led John and Abby to slap some sense into him, to get him respectable again. He’d eventually ended up working at a bar downtown run by an old friend, a hot tempered Scott called Tim Kelly. It wasn’t much, but at least he had managed to pull himself out of his funk and cousin John could look him in the eyes. And that was when he met John Hancock, the dirty-blonde, blue-eyed, closeted son of an old politician who came in every Friday night.

Their relationship had gotten off to a rough start. Sam was still in denial about being attracted to men, so he had turned into a grade-school boy with a crush, which mostly meant that he was exceedingly rude to the person he was crushing on. Sam didn’t like Hancock’s holier-than-thou attitude, had called him a “stupid fucking rich boy” on more than one occasion. Hancock didn’t like Sam’s rough around the edges, uncaring, foul-mouthed personality. And yet, somehow, they both had gotten stupidly drunk one night and blown each other in the bathroom at the back of the bar. All in all, not a brilliant start to a relationship. But then it was coffee and movies and restaurants, actual dates, and then Sam realized that he had fallen completely head over heels with the “stupid fucking rich boy”. And now it was their wedding day.

A fist rapped on the door to the room.

“Sam. Can I come in?” 

“It’s open!” he called. The door opened to reveal a primped and preened Abigail Adams, who was holding a white rose boutonniere and two pins. She immediately made a grab for his lapels, gently poking the pins through the flower and fabric. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, smirking.

“In all honesty, no,” Sam replied, running his fingers through his hair. Abby slapped at his hand.

“No touching,” she said. “You’ll mess up all the gel.”

“But Abby-”

“I said no touching. You want to look nice for your Johnny don’t you?”

“My Johnny has seen me look way worse than this he’d be fine.”

“Sam it’s your wedding day. A little pomp and circumstance is necessary for this kind of thing. You’ll be fine.” 

“Oh yeah it’s fine, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m getting married to a man in front of the entire family when the last time everyone was here I was marrying a woman it’s fine.” His voice pitched up at the end of the sentence, turning into almost a squeak. Abby pushed him into a chair and crouched down in front of him. Honestly, she had expected this, already had her speech ready. 

“Sam, look at me. Sam. Everyone in the family is in complete support of you. You are not the disappointment that you think you are, okay? Everyone loves John, including you, so don't let this spoil your day, because you don't deserve that. Lizzie would want you to be happy.” 

“I know she would, I know. I just finally got my life put back together, and I'm worried this is all going to go south because I'm going to fuck it up as per  _ fucking  _ usual.”

“Sam, listen. You are  _ not _ going to fuck this up, because you love your John and he loves you back and you are both so good for each other, so I have no doubt that you'll keep each other in line. That, and the fact that I will  _ personally _ come and slap you into next week if you do anything to break his heart.” She sat down next to Sam and slung an arm over his shoulder.

“You'd side with Hancock over me?” Sam smirked at her.

“Quite frankly yes. He's such a sweetie. Also, I once walked in on you two, and it wasn't  _ his  _ bare ass that was burned into my brain.” Sam swatted at her playfully, which sent them both into a fit of giggles, adrenaline and anxiety taking over. 

“And John and I aren’t as put together as we look, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Yeah, I guess. You two and your boyfriend. Thomas, right?” 

“You’ve met Thomas, shut up. So you are not the only gay cousin in the Adams family after all.” She pulled him to his feet and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Come on Sammy. Let’s go get your man.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The actual ceremony took no more than twenty minutes. Their vows were short and sweet, nothing too fancy. Hancock teared up when Sam said I Do, and Sam kissed away the ones that fell down his cheeks. Abby cried too, and so did Kelly and Warren, even though they’d never admit it, which was almost the best part. But if Sam had any opinion at all, the best part of the whole thing was the reception, where he had the first dance with the love of his life, and there was food and an open bar. Sam was decidedly not a sentimental person, but he could feel his eyes watering and his voice shaking, and then John noticed and it was the two of them crying happily into a kiss. It would be forever immortalized by their wedding photographer, and by Revere, who was waltzing around with an old polaroid camera, doing a little photography of his own. Eventually, they all made their way back to the tables, John, Sam, Abby, cousin John, Revere, Kelly, Warren, and a bunch of John’s friends all sitting at the long table at the front of the room. Cousin John managed to grab the mic first. 

“So when Samuel first brought home John, my first thought was honestly: you’re gay?” The crowd groaned loudly, with a few scattered laughs here and there. 

“No wait wait! I was mostly upset that I was no longer the only gay Adams cousin. Although Sammy outranks me because, you know, he’s the one actually married to a man now.” And that was basically John’s speech, a gentle ribbing of Sam and John, with a smattering of embarrassing stories, including how cousin John first met Hancock, and it was when he came down to the living room to discover the both of them passed out on his couch buck ass nude, to which Abby responded “There are children here John.” Revere went next, with his best man speech.

“Well, they usually say that nothing good happens when you’re drunk, but I think this worked out for you Sammy.” Abby promptly took a huge swig of champagne, settling in for the long haul and hoping that the children were too young to understand any of this. Revere’s speech chronicled the series of events that had led up to Sam meeting John, going out with John, and eventually asking to marry John, including the time when he accidentally dropped his engagement ring down the sink and cried for two hours until Abby and Warren managed to fish it out of the pipes. It was the quintessential best man’s speech.  

An hour later found them yet again in the middle of the dance floor, with John’s head on Sam’s shoulder and a string quartet playing a soft slow song. 

“We’re married.” John’s voice was muffled in Sam’s suit.

“What’s that Johnny?”

John pressed his forehead to Sam’s. 

“We’re married, Sam. We are actually married. You’re my  _ husband _ .”

Sam planted a chaste kiss on John’s lips. 

“I know, babe. We’re husbands.” He smirked into another kiss, lips against teeth. “And I can’t wait to be alone with my husband.” He bit gently into Hancock’s bottom lip.

“And what are you going to do to me when we are alone  _ husband _ ?” His breath hitched as Sam subtly pressed a knee between his legs.

“I’m going to  _ ruin  _ you.”

John groaned softly, tried to rut up against Sam, who moved his hand to his hips to keep him still.

“Later Baby, later. Wait until the party is over.” 

“The party can end now if we want it to.”

“Later.”

John pouted, but managed to behave himself. He surveyed the room from his place on Sam’s shoulder. Warren was dancing nearby with his date, a pretty blonde girl by the name of Maggie. Little Quincy was raiding the buffet table, aided by the rest of the Adams children. Cousin John and Abby were drinking champagne and cuddling with Thomas in the corner. Kelly was flirting with a pretty redhead, and Revere was inspecting the silverware, for god knows what reason. 

The party ended late, around midnight, when all the kids were dead asleep, most of the adults were drunk, or getting there, and Sam and John were too horny to stay out in public. They were seen into the limo by Abby, John, Warren, Kelly, and Revere, a quiet send off.

Abby kissed them both on the cheek. “You boys have fun tonight.” She grinned, “and congratulations.”

Warren’s, Kelly’s, and Revere’s send offs were much the same. To Hancock, it was, “Break his heart and I’ll break your face,” and to Sam it was, “You got a good one Sammy. You better treat him right.” Cousin John just gave him a hug and a smile, before kicking them both into the limo. 

“You guys are practically eye-fucking each other. Go!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Hancock could think with Sam’s tongue down his throat, he’d be thinking that it was a great thing that the windows of the limo were tinted and the screen between them and the driver was sound proof. He was straddling Sam, his hands tangling in his hair and his hips rutting against the very noticeable bulge in his pants. Sam groaned and moved his hands down to palm John’s ass, giving him more leverage to grind their hips together. Hancock made a noise in the back of his throat and pulled back, panting, his lips bitten red and his face flushed. 

“Wait,” he gasped. “If we don’t stop, I have a feeling that I’ll ruin this suit. I’ve definitely ruined the lines in th-” He was cut off as Sam surged forward again and pressed their lips together, running his tongue along the seam of them. This time, it was Sam who pulled away, grinning like the cheshire cat that he was.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we?” He manhandled Hancock so that he was pinned to the seat, with Sam between his legs working his bowtie undone and sucking hickies into the delicate skin of his throat. John squirmed, giggled when Sam hit a ticklish spot.

“I’m failing to see how this is keeping the suits nice,” he panted. Sam paused in his mission to look up into John’s eyes, grinding his hips down just to see his features soften in pleasure.

“It’s really not keeping the suits nice at all,” he said. “But fuck the suits.” He sunk his teeth into Hancock’s jaw, making him moan loudly. They stayed that way the rest of the ride, John snaking his hand into Sam’s pants as Sam bit at his lips. 

Getting out of the limo and into the hotel was probably the most awkward, both holding their suit jackets in front of them, purple bruises blossoming on John’s throat and Sam’s hair an absolute mess. Luckily, checking into the hotel went smoothly, and they were soon on their way up to their room on the penthouse floor. Sam immediately shoved Hancock through the door, crowding him up against the backside of it when it slammed shut. They managed to lose their shirts as John hitched his leg up around Sam’s hips, pressing their erections together. Sam groaned and moved his hands under Hancock’s ass, pulling him up so both of his legs were around him and carried him to the bed, flopping down on top of him. 

“God, Sam. Please fuck me. Fuck your husband,” John whined. His whine turned into a moan when Sam ground down on him again.

“Oh baby I will. But first, I think that you are wearing way too much.” Sam fumbled at the zippers on their pants, managing to tug his own down first before devoting all his efforts to John’s. Sam's eyes widened as he pulled John’s pants down, revealing a pair of creamy white lace panties that hugged his hips and his ass, a tantalizing bulge at the front of them. Sam felt himself grow harder at the sight. 

“Jesus, Johnny. Are you trying to kill me, baby?” 

Hancock smirked. “Absolutely.”

Sam groaned and started kissing his way down John’s body, sucking bruises as he went. He paused to bite at his little belly, nipping at his hip bones, before closing his mouth around John’s dick over the panties. Hancock arched up into the touch, a high, keening moan emanating from his throat. Sam grinned internally, sucking harder just to hear his husband praise him. The silk felt nice over his tongue, and he could feel it getting soaked between him and John’s leaking cock. Sam tongued at the head for a bit, feeling pleased with himself as John squirmed.

“Fuuuuuck. Sam,” Hancock hissed. Sam pulled off.

“Language, Baby. You don’t want to spoil that pretty mouth of yours.” He pushed his thumbs under the waistband of the panties and pulled down, John’s erection springing free. John groaned at the feel of the cold air across the wet head of his dick. 

“I wouldn't be spoiling my mouth if you were fucking me now,” he retorted. Sam crawled up to close his mouth over Hancock’s, shoving his tongue into his mouth. He reached down to wrap a hand around John’s dick, thumbing at the head and making him shudder. John moaned as Sam moved down again, hooking his legs around his shoulders and taking his dick in his mouth. He keened, arching up into Sam and fisting the sheets in his hands. 

Sam prided himself on many things, and one of these things was his lack of a substantial gag reflex, which he now indulged. He dimly felt Hancock make a grab at his hair when his dick hit the back of his throat and he moaned deeply, making sure he felt the vibrations. John shouted, bucking his hips up. Sam looked up, making eye contact with Hancock and seeing his pupils blown wide, almost swallowing his pretty blue eyes. The contact was broken when Sam sucked down again and Hancock threw his head back, exposing the garish purple bruises littering his jaw line and the soft skin of his throat. Sam ran his tongue up the shaft of John’s dick, swirling around the head and gathering the drops of precum that had gathered there.

“Wait, Sam. Wait!” Hancock panted, gently tugging on Sam’s hair. Sam stopped, but kept John’s legs over his shoulders.

“What is it Baby?” He asked, pulling the panties back over John’s dick. John went a bit cross-eyed before he answered. 

“I - fuck - don’t want this to end so soon. I want to come with you inside me.” His cheeks and neck flushed red, clashing horribly with the many hickies left by Sam.

Sam dropped John’s legs from around his shoulders, slinking back up his body to sprawl out on top of him. 

“How about,” he said, punctuating the phrase with a dirty roll of his hips, sighing when his own cock brushed the silk panties. “I eat you out until you come, and then you ride me until you come again? Sound good Baby?” 

“But what about you?” 

“Tonight is all about you, Little Prince. Tomorrow morning, you can do whatever you want for me, but tonight,” Sam leaned down further until he was whispering in Hancock’s ear. “Tonight I want to fuck you until you scream.” 

John groaned. “Fuck yes.” 

Sam followed the path of love bites he had left earlier, over John’s clavicle, down his sternum, past his belly and over his hips. He dragged the panties down John's legs before spreading his legs to press his tongue against his hole. John's breath hitched in his throat. He grabbed at the white sheets with one hand and at Sam’s hair with the other.

Sam sucked a kiss against John's hole, getting him wet. He was purposely sloppy with it, and soon, John was soaked. He gently pushed his tongue into him, feeling the muscles flutter around him as John moaned prettily.

“God, Sam!” 

Sam just pushed further in, making John babble in pleasure, fucking his hips up into Sam’s tongue. 

“You're so  _ good _ . Please! Fuck me!” He felt Sam sling an arm under his leg, hooking it in the crook of his elbow and holding his hips down with his forearm. He looked up again. 

“You're so pretty like this Baby.” Sam’s voice was deep and hoarse, almost unrecognizable. He sucked two fingers into his mouth, got them soaking, and pressed them up against John's hole. He felt them slip past the loosened muscle and he hooked them around almost immediately. 

John whined, wanton and high pitched, finally getting some real stimulation as Sam scissored his fingers inside him. Every so often, they would brush past his prostate and he would jerk and moan. Sam’s tongue rejoined his fingers, pressing between them as he held John open. 

“Come on Johnny. Come for your husband,” Sam coaxed, hooking his fingers into John’s prostate and pressing a sucking kiss to his rim.

John moaned loudly, high and long, his body drawing tight like a bow string before relaxing, clamping down on Sam’s fingers and tongue and coming all over his belly. Sam reached up to stroke him through the aftershocks until he squirmed away, uncomfortable. Sam licked at his hole one more time before flopping down next to him, dragging his fingers through the mess on John’s stomach and sucking them into his mouth. He hummed around his mouthful, seeing John’s eyes darken further and his cock twitch. He leaned over to kiss John, letting him taste himself and rolling them over in the process. John looked a bit surprised to find Sam under him, but he seemed very happy with his perch on Sam’s stomach. 

“Could you fuck me now?” 

Sam grinned. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” He felt around the bed sheets for the bottle of lube that he’d thrown there at one point. He found it eventually, handed it over to John, who opened it and poured a generous amount on his fingers. John reached to slick Sam’s cock, and this time it was Sam’s turn to moan and buck, finally getting some stimulation after a good hour of torture. 

Sam choked on a moan when John sunk down on him, enveloping him in a hot, tight warmth. He bucked up, hands finding Hancock’s hips and squeezing. John smirked, happy to make his husband feel so good. He settled on Sam’s lap for a few moments, getting used to the stretch of his cock inside him before he rolled his hips experimentally, making Sam moan again. 

They set up a rhythm, lazy and slow, with Sam’s hands pressing bruises into John’s hips and thighs. John’s hands were braced against Sam’s chest, giving him leverage to grind down harder. His head was thrown back and his eyelids were fluttering, blue irises barely visible. His pretty, melodic moans were slowly becoming higher pitched, and Sam could feel him quivering under his hands. John was tight, making each thrust absolute heaven for Sam. And maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the adrenaline of the night, he didn’t know, but he suddenly couldn’t stop himself from singing John’s praises.

“Fuuuuuuuck, Baby. You’re so fucking  _ tight _ , you’re so  _ good _ . I love this, fucking you, fucking your tight little ass. You’re a  _ dream _ , little prince. You and you pretty little dick. God I could fuck you all day.” He was babbling, he knew, but he had to make sure that Hancock knew just how he felt at that moment. And it worked. John dropped his head to make eye contact with Sam, biting his lip as he did so.

“Fuck me harder, Sammy,” he panted. “Make me  _ feel  _ you.” He yelped when Sam surged upward, pulling John into his lap and impaling him on his cock. 

This new position gave the opportunity for Hancock to rub his dick against Sam’s belly, and for Sam to grasp at his ass, helping him to move. Their lips met in a messy kiss, both panting into each other’s mouths, teeth clacking. 

“We’re  _ married _ , Johnny. I can’t believe we’re married.” Sam was getting clingy, hugging Hancock to his chest and reaching down to stroke his dick lightly. “You’re my  _ husband _ .”

“My husband,” John repeated. He keened when Sam angled himself to hit his prostate, voice pitching up and giving edge to his moans. 

Sam could feel himself getting close, a burning heat in his belly. He tightened his grip around John’s dick, stroking faster as his thrusts became more erratic. He spread the precum at the tip down the shaft, enjoying Hancock shuddering around him. John’s moans were a mix of near screams and litanies to Sam, all about how good he was fucking him, how full he was.

“You’re so big, Baby. You feel so  _ big _ inside me. I wish I could be this full all the time, full of you.” 

Sam moaned, hearing this almost putting him over the edge. He redoubled his efforts to make sure Hancock came before he did, squeezing his ass and thumbing at his dick simultaneously.

“Come on Little Prince. Come for your husband. Let me see your pretty face when you do.” He moved his fingers to press at John’s rim, aiming his cock at his prostate. 

John tumbled over the edge with a scream, coming between their stomachs and shaking with the force of it. His fingernails raked along Sam’s back, leaving raised red lines in their tracks. 

Sam was chasing his own release, wanting to come before he caused John too much discomfort. He thrust once, twice more, coming deep in John’s ass, moaning into his ear.

“I love you,” he panted. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” John breathed. They stayed that way, tangled in each other for a good minute, all lazy kisses and soft touches. Then John shifted, making a small noise of discomfort.

Sam carefully pulled out before laying them both down, grabbing the puffy white duvet cover to wrap them up. He arranged John, turning soft and sleepy with his orgasm, against him, pressed against his chest, their legs tangled together. 

“I love you,” he said again. John just hummed, dropping off into sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sam awoke to soft light filtering in through the curtains. He could tell that it was raining outside, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, because he had woken up to John Hancock in his arms and a golden band on his left ring finger. He couldn’t be happier. 

John was snoring softly, features soft and peaceful. Sam took the chance to survey his body, immediately feeling guilty. Clusters of purple-black bruises littered Hancock’s throat and jaw-line, travelling down over his clavicle and sternum. Sam wouldn’t dare move the covers, lest he disturb his little prince, but he could hazard a guess as to the state of his hips and thighs. He may have had gone overboard last night.

“You’re watching me sleep.” Sam looked down to see John blinking sleepily, a dopey smile of pure happiness on his face. He grinned.

“Of course I am Baby. You’re just so pretty, how could I not?” John hummed in agreement and leaned up to kiss him, soft and close-mouthed.

They made out lazily for a few minutes, John moving to pin Sam underneath him as the kisses grew in heat and intensity. Sam felt an insistent hardness against his thigh, and a sudden memory entered his head of telling John that he could do what Sam wanted in the morning.

“Baby?” he asked.

“Hmmm?”

“Could you fuck me?” To Hancock’s credit, he only looked a bit taken aback by the request. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m very sure. I want my  _ husband _ to fuck me, and fuck me good.” 

John groaned, feeling himself get harder. 

“Fuck yes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

That morning was slow. No screaming. Just pretty moans and soft sighs and whispered oaths to each other, their bodies rolling together in a perfect chemistry. They dozed for a while after, avoiding getting out of the big, soft bed into the shower. It was Hancock who eventually got them up, citing his need to take a shower, in which Sam was welcome to join him, which he did. They had time to kill before their flight to the Bahamas left at three, so they settled for cuddling in bed while watching bad network television and eating ice cream, laughing and licking the excess off each other’s fingers. 

And they wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written smut for like three years lmao


End file.
